Wednesday, November 28, 2007

i was just listening to 'all things considered' on npr. i love that show. i would like to have the guy who narrates the program read me bedtime stories. but i digress ...

tonight, there was a story about the reverse 911 communication system and evacuations from the wildfires a month ago. it was orderly, easy. i understand, though, from the report, that the system didn't work quite as well as everyone first thought. there are a few reasons - one of which had to do with my mother's first reaction when she heard the phrase 'reverse 911.' she thought she should dial 1-1-9 and ask them what her emergency was. the truly strange thing is ... she wasn't the only one. apparently a lot of people tried to do the same thing.

so, i'm beginning to get used to california. i'm even beginning to love it. although, i do have a few questions ...

1. why are there speed bumps on the 'uphill' side of the parking lots?

2. what do these people do for a living that at three o'clock on a wednesday they're hanging out at the grocery store? don't they have jobs?

3. if these people don't have jobs, is there somebody, somewhere, handing out giant bags of money?

4. if so, how do i get one? (and can i get one for my sister and brother.in.law, too?)

5. where do surfers put their keys?

6. how is it i'm the only one in the 7-11 with shoes on - every time?

7. where is everyone going in such a hurry? (seriously - i'm going 80 mph and i'm relegated to the 'slow lane.')

8. if you buy a new car in california, does it come with a surf board and/or bicycle strapped to its shell? why then, does it not come with turn signals?

9. if it's cold enough to wear a turtleneck, how is it warm enough to wear flip flops?

10. why does gas cost 30 cents more per gallon on the right side of the street?

11. when did it become appropriate to take your dog with you everywhere you go? (and i'm not just talking about tiny, fit.them.into.your.purse.kinda.dogs, i'm talking about ladies walking around with cocker spaniels and terriers in their arms - in the grocery store and the gap.)

12. will i be asked to leave the state if i don't soon own an article of clothing made of fleece?

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

good evening (she says, burrowing beneath the covers, eyes squinted against the light of the computer in the darkened room). what's your world like today?

the day evolved slowly here, everything covered in a thick blanket of fog. fog, which i'm told is actually 'the marine layer' ... the sea reaching all the way to the hills. it is the highest of tides, i suppose, and always a lovely way to begin the day. lovelier still, is the way it suddenly disappears, leaving the world sunsoaked and shimmery.

it appears to be one of those days where i'm completely in love with everything.

last night was my first 'closing' shift at the store. it couldn't come soon enough. the pace these last days has been ... rabid. i needed to slow down, ease into at least one day of the week. it was as good a day as any. and has left me feeling closer to 'normal' than i have in a long time ...

my car arrived! it's such a small thing, but it makes me feel as if i really live here. standing on the curb, watching them unload her, it felt, strangely, as if i'd been delivered ... small and white; quick and fancy; lightly bruised and a little dirty ... we're very much alike, she and i. (good thing, because we spend a ridiculous amount of time together, these days.)

i'm making friends at work. enemies, too, it would seem. still, work is good - even if the honeymoon is over. this week, everyone appears to be testing my knowledge, my patience, my limits - all at once. it is enlivening and much more to my liking than the tiptoeing that occurred around me in the last weeks. and i am oh so happy to get my hands dirty again.

it's amusing to watch people prove what they can do, especially in light of the fact it feels as if i'm constantly doing the same. less amusing is the idea that my floor managers hate me. perhaps, they only hate the idea of me. it's hard for them, i think, to have functioned as assistants and suddenly be faced with the loss of responsibility and the accompanying 'power.' i am sensitive to it, so i am kind, but i do not coddle them. to accomplish anything, you need to learn to play with it, and the balance between the two is a delicate one. we're all trying to find our footing, and i find myself more tolerant of their tantrums and behind-my-back antics than i will be down the line. i do look forward to the unraveling of the knots they've twisted themselves into.

i also enjoy watching folks try to figure me out. the stock guys wouldn't let me help with anything, (which was odd for me, since i'm used to working the truck, unboxing, moving) until they caught me lifting a sofa onto a dollie - i am freakishly strong (and stubborn). they're all a little looser with me now. which i much prefer. (it doesn't keep them from talking about me when they think i'm not around, though, and i'm still trying to figure out which one of them i overheard say i have an ass 'you'd like to sink your teeth into.') ahhh ... boys. they will be boys. thank god.

oh. there's a cat in my lap, now. chutney, too, it seems, is accidentally normal today. she has finally come out from under the bed, to snuggle and soon, i imagine, to explore and then nap. such a lovely life.

speaking of lovely ... i hope your day can be described as such. if i could, i'd send you this evening - cool and wet, the scent of eucalyptus, leaning against the fence and laughing at whatever stupid thing i've done now. until i conquer the space/time continuum, however, you'll have to settle for my little descriptions and my hugs from afar.